The Jello Murders
by ashley227
Summary: Not exactly sure where I'm taking this story...I just finished the book John Dies at the End and it inspired me to write. Raited M just in case


It was Friday the 13th the night everything started happening, not to sound overly cliché, but that's when it happened. A night of drinking and walking around town alone had sent me to bed at three in the morning, stumbling into my apartment, dropping my keys onto the floor knowing it would be the easiest place for me to find them when I woke up without recollection of even getting here. Everything spinning and tunnel vision made me put effort into not retasting anything I had eaten earlier that day. I flopped onto my bed when I finally reached it.

I have no idea how long I had been sleeping, but I know it wasn't more than a few hours because the grogginess of being drunk still lingered over me when I hear a sound. Something like growling. A dog? I may have been drunk-ish, but I knew damn well I didn't have a dog or even a pet for that matter.

Something in my room rustled, but still I didn't move, trying to get my water logged brain to function normally. After a few moments I knew something was in here with me. My first thought was that I was being robbed and maybe pretending I was still asleep would be my best bet.

Then there was the voice.

It was saying my name, over and over again. Deep, like the voice of a really really big guy.

_Ash…Ash…ASH!_

My heart raced, and suddenly my head was pounding with a premature hangover. I glanced up at my nightstand, trying to make it seem to who ever was in my room that I wasn't moving. 5 am. Fuck, it was early; I had only been asleep for two hours. I fought the urge to turn over and look at the foot of my bed, my heart still feeling like it was going to pound right out of my chest, sprout legs and run for the door.

It seemed like the sounds had stopped, but only after about 30 minutes. I managed to get back to sleep.

I didn't wake up until 2 in the afternoon; strangely without the pounding in my skull I was experiencing only a few hours ago. I sat up in bed, grabbing my pack of Newport 100's off the nightstand. Saw I only had one left, and lit it up, taking one long drag. I blew out the smoke, and remembered the events of this morning. I looked over where the sounds I was hearing would have been coming from.

There was a steel door on my floor. I say that as though I thought someone had dropped there door on my floor at one point while they where visiting. But I knew damn well there was no door on the floor when I moved here and I think I would have noticed that, this being the room I spent most of my time in while I was home. Never mind the fact that my apartment was on the second floor of the building.

I got up and walked over to it. There was combination lock on it, like a safe, but large enough an opening to fit a person. I studied it maybe longer than I had to, tried to lift open the door but it was locked. I shook my head and realized I wasn't going to figure anything out by staring at it.

I stepped out of my room cautiously, as if I were going to find someone in my living room. I didn't of coarse. Coffee was the next thing on my mind. Took about 5 minutes to make in my single serving Keurig coffee maker. I threw the spoon I used to mix my cream with into my sink. It didn't clang loudly against the steel like it usually did; instead there was silence, as though it hit something soft. I turned quickly, making an expression of confusion, and looked into my sink.

The spoon sat there on top of what looked like cherry jello. A fucking sink full of it; my dishes suspended in the wiggly snack food. What the fuck? I knew for a fact that I didn't do this, nor did I even have jello mix in the house let alone enough to fill my stainless steel sink. I poked it with my finger like a little kid and it wiggled. I picked up the spoon and took a scoop, tasting it. Yep, cherry jello it was. I decided I would clean it later, regardless of where in the world it had come from.

I sipped my coffee and ashed my cigarette into an ashtray as I sat on the sofa. I turned the TV on, immediately the news came on; also weird considering I never watched the news. I tried to change the channel but the buttons on the remote control wouldn't do anything, just lit up red. Fucking Comcast. I gave up and threw the controller across the room.

A strangely attractive female reporter came onto the screen and when I say strangely attractive I mean it looked like they took one of the Play Boy girls and dressed her up in a woman's suit. Her hair was platinum blonde and her face was caked with way too much make up. She spoke in a squeaky fake voice, holding a channel 5 microphone in her right hand.

"Early this morning disaster struck the town of Nowhere," She began. _Nowhere?_ "A man was brutally murdered in his home about 5 this morning, more details tonight. Now for the weather!" She said with a giddy giggle as though there was something funny about a murder. The typical giant map of the United States came up, vividly colored to show temperature in the different regions.

Only to add to the continuously odd things apparently swarming my brain this morning, the weather lady seemed to be pointing at the map with what appeared to be a silver vibrator. I almost choked on my coffee, spilling it onto my lap. I rubbed my eyes thinking I was seeing things. I squinted at the television as if it would help, but I still came to the conclusion that she was in fact holding a vibrator on national TV.

I turned the television off and shook my head. Had I been slipped some kind of fucked up drug last night? I stubbed out my cigarette, and finished my coffee. I went back to thinking about the safe door thing in my bedroom. I wondered what was in it. Money? It did look like a safe. Suddenly my cell phone rang.

I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey Ash, what's up?" Voice of my friend Drake who lived in the same building but on the first floor.

"Hey Drake, not too much," I said. "You haven't experiencing some weird shit have you?"

"Like what kind of weird shit?"

"Like random jello and sexy news casters."

"Uh, no jello, but where the hell are you seeing sexy news casters? I wanna watch that report," He said with a chuckle.

"Never mind just come up here I gotta show you something."

"Alright."

*click* I hung up the phone, expecting to see him in about 2 point 5 seconds. Sure enough in the time it took me to walk over to the door there was a knock. I opened it. "So what's going on?" Drake asked. He was a tall muscular bald guy; model good looks, mid twenties, but the libido of a thirteen-year-old virgin. I admit, though he was my best friend and occasional fuck buddy, he could get stupid at times. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that looked like it was about to bust at the seems from his bulging muscles and a pair of faded dark blue jeans.

"In my bedroom," I said.

"Well if that's what you wanted…"

"Not what you think horn ball." I said, playfully punching him in the arm. We entered my room and I pointed to the door on the floor. "Have you ever seen this before?"

He studied it for a moment, kneeling down on the floor and staring at it. "Nope, but where did it come from?"

"I don't know, I woke up this morning and there it was."

"Well its screwed to the floor, someone would have had to come in here and install it."

"Exactly."

"It needs a combination to open it. What do you think is inside?"

"Money I hope," I said as I began to walk back out of the room. "You think it was the landlord?" I asked.

"Doubt it, he can't come into our apartments with out permission, never mind the fact that he's out of the country for the month." He explained.

"Oh yeah, that's right," I said, pondering for a moment. When I looked up into my living room the far wall had a huge number 35 painted on it in what looked like blood. "What the fuck?!" I shouted.

"What?" Drake asked, confused.

"You don't see that?" I said, rushing over to the wall and pointing at it.

"See what?" He said, genuinely unable to see what I was seeing.

"The gigantic thirty five on the wall dumbass."

"Ash there's nothing there on the wall, just white."

"You seriously don't see it?"

"Uh nope."

I scratched my head, trying to stop myself from touching the still wet crimson liquid dripping off the wall. "Have you been shootin up or something Ash?" Drake asked.

"What? No. I seriously see a number here drawn on the wall," I explained, leaving out the blood part. Turned and looked at him, he was staring at me as if I had three heads. I sighed. "I need cigarettes." I said and headed for the door…


End file.
